The Masked Man
by WhatTheF-ckHaveYouDoneLately
Summary: One-shot for Reaper's Curse. Tom Hanniger is hot on the heels of his latest victim. Extremely detailed gore, more warnings inside. Rated T because I'm not sure if graphic horror is supposed to be rated M.


**Author's Note:**

**Quite awhile ago, Reaper's Curse said she wanted some gore and emoness. Sorry it took so long. This is extremely gory, so if you have a weak stomach AT ALL, turn around and run. This is my first time writing for My Bloody Valentine and also my first time writing in present tense. I don't know, it just seemed to suit the fic better. Feedback and ideas for improvement are very appreciated, this is my first time writing horror.**

**Warnings:**

**Extreme gore, blood, violence, and brief organ play.**

**Soundtrack:**

**Change by Deftones, Headstrong by Trapt, Let The Bodies Hit The Floor by Drowning Pool.**

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><p>The blood pounds in his ears. His booted feet cover ground, each step bringing him closer to his victim. His breathing is made all the louder by his mask. His pickaxe feels familiar in his hand, the end of it rusted and covered in dried blood. The girl runs for dear life, clinging to the fragile hope that she will survive. She even prays, as if God will save her. She is Tom Hanniger's favorite kind of victim. He loves watching the light go out of their eyes, loves watching their prayers shatter right in front of them as soon as he has them cornered. He shudders in anticipation.<p>

He's quite pleased. After surviving the explosion in Harmony, he moved on to another town. This one has a mine too. This stupid girl had come here to mess around with her boyfriend against the wishes of her very Christian parents. Tom had crushed the top of the boy's skull with his pickaxe, the sharp point cutting through skull and lodging into the soft, vulnerable flesh of the brain. Blood had oozed from the wound and matted the boy's hair. Tom left his heart, for he wanted instead the vital, beating organ inside the girl he was in hot pursuit of. He had briefly toyed with the idea of taking both, but then decided to indulge himself in being choosy this time. So he went after the girl.

She runs for dear life. Hannah Cooper, only sixteen years old, is about to see the end of her days, but she denies this to herself and continues to run, her worn out Converses pounding the ground beneath her. She suddenly realizes she no longer hears a second set of feet behind her. Trembling, she looks over her shoulder. The masked man is nowhere to be found. She wraps her fingers around the small silver cross she wears around her neck, sending one more prayer for her to live, for him to have left her.

The mine is utterly silent. She considers turning around and trying to find a way out, or perhaps going out the way she came. But she doesn't know where the man is that killed her boyfriend and can't risk encountering him. Not to mention she isn't sure she could stomach seeing her love's cadaver. There are plenty of tunnels within this old, abandoned mine. She decides to try to find another exit. Bracing herself, she turns around, the silence telling her that she was alone.

Tom Hanniger is standing right in front of her.

He can be deceptively quiet. She screams and takes off, her legs weak underneath her. She can barely maintain her balance. Tom smirks as she trips over the corner of a crate. She goes sprawling, her long, dirty blond hair falling on either side of her. It is in vain when she rolls over onto her back and tries to scramble away from the masked man holding the pickaxe. She begs for him to let her go, insists that he doesn't want to do this. She's wrong…he very much wants to do this. He can practically hear the pounding of her heart, strong and steady. He longs to tear it out.

"Please, no, please…" she cries, tears streaming down her face.

His reply is to bring the pickaxe down. He relishes her final scream, the one that was torn from her throat as he buried his weapon in her chest cavity. The light bleeds from her eyes; her blood bleeds from her chest. He watches, adrenaline high. There is nothing like the conclusion of a good chase. He rips her chest apart, from her ribs to her breastbone, tearing it all away. The body's natural protective appendages are only minor obstacles to him. Finally, under the blood and messily splintered bone, he encounters the object of his desire.

He reaches in and grasps her heart, pulling it free, the arteries connecting it to the rest of her body snapping as he removes it. Blood seeps into his covered hands. He drops his axe and removes his mask, sucking in long, deep breaths as he frees himself. The heart is a pleasant weight in his hand. His green eyes glitter hungrily as he gazes down upon it, a cruel satisfaction spreading through him as it always does after a kill. He leans down and caresses the surface of it with his silky tongue, that delicious liquid soaking into his taste buds. Perhaps it is Harry that enjoys the taste, perhaps it is Tom. They are one and the same now.

He dons his mask once more and stands, his pickaxe in one hand, the heart in the other. As he exits the mine, he takes the time to admire the state of his two victims. The girl's chest is practically shredded; the boy's skull is split open. Tom is proud of his work. He strides out into the cool dawn light. This is his favorite way to start the day. No one sees him. He stares down at his axe, which is still wet with the blood of an innocent, sixteen year old girl.

He is already anticipating his next victim.


End file.
